Gutter - Part 2: The Shine

by Tiana Laveen

  “Promise I really don’t know what’s going on inside of Mama’s head half the time. But Dad? Now that’s a guy I understand. Watch. He needs a place to stay. That’s why he’s been calling you.”

  “I wouldn’t put it past him.” Dipping the spoon into the coffee, she stirred and stirred until it was just to her liking.

  “It’s a fact. He tried that with me the last time he got out after spending all of that time in Lincoln before it closed. I told him I barely had enough room for myself in the place I was at the time, down in Riverdale. You remember. When I stayed in the Bronx.”

  “Yeah, I remember your apartment there. You were doing the minimalistic thing before it was fashionable.” He cracked up at her little jab. Making her way to the couch with her coffee, she propped her feet up on the coffee table, and crossed her legs. That first hot sip felt like heaven wrapped in chocolate and tasted like love. “Mmm… This coffee is good.”

  “Not better than Abraço. Anyway, Mama will be all right, Promise. You know how she gets. I just hate that whenever she gets him out of her system, he worms his way right back in.”

  “Westley, Mama has said nothing about him not wanting to move in with her when he gets out this time around, making me even more certain your theory is true about him wanting to test the waters, to see if he can move in with me. Don’t you find that strange?”

  “I know the answer to that, too. He doesn’t want to live with her because he wants to do his dirt in peace. He knows you and I work all the time, so we’d barely be home. Free range to fuck up without interference.”

  She shook her head.

  “I know why he doesn’t want to be with her, I definitely agree with you, but my thing is this: I am sure Mama feels bad about it, ya know? When I kind of poked at the issue, she said this man told her he wanted to get a job first this time around, so she doesn’t feel like he is living off her again.” She rolled her eyes and sucked her teeth. “What a crock of crap. Mama is acting like she believes it, too, but I know she’s smarter than that.” She sipped on her coffee.

  “He’s got his own stuff to work out with mama, but we’re still sitting here with the door half open, basically. We can’t close it completely—he’s getting out of prison soon. Eventually, we’re going to have to deal with him, Promise. I already explained to him it would be bad for me, with his history, and my profession, if he had to move into my apartment for any long period of time. He hates that I’m a cop, anyway. Acts like it was some sort of betrayal. As if I was thinking about his ass when I was in training, going through the police academy. Like I got up every morning doing all of those fitness tests and goin’ through all of that bullshit thinking, ‘Gee, let me keep being on the verge of death from these early morning runs, just so I can stick it to my dad! That’ll teach him.’ Fuck outta here…”

  She almost snorted her coffee.

  “On top of it all, Promise, I could lose my job if he decides to do something stupid and ropes me into it. I’ve worked too hard. I’m not going to let him mess this up for me.”

  “True. I know I’ll have to eventually deal with him, too. Like you said, the door is half open because it’s hard to close it completely when we have Mama badgering us, and him calling. Mama thinks I hate him, but I don’t. I tried to explain this to her. I just don’t care anymore. I’ve given up.” Her shoulders slumped. I have a father, but I don’t. If we never spoke again, my life wouldn’t be any better or worse.

  “I feel you. Mama blames everyone but him for his messes. He could hit someone over the head with a 2x4, and she’d say, ‘Well, they shouldn’t have been standing there.’ I think I would’ve respected him more if he’d just been honest. People fuck up and make mistakes all the time. We’re human. We all have weaknesses. We make bad decisions from time to time.”

  The coffee began to taste suddenly bitter, the taste lingering on her palate. Her stomach churned as she replayed her brother’s words in her head. We’re human. We all have weaknesses. We make bad decisions from time to time…

  “Westley, let me ask you something.”

  “Yeah. Make it fast though. I gotta get ready to go in.”

  “Oh, second shift today?”

  “Yeah, for the whole week. What’s up?”

  “If something bad happened, say, ten years ago, and you were dating someone, would you tell them?”

  “What kinda vague Dr. Suess riddle Cat in the Hat shit is that, Promise?” He chortled.

  “Come on. Play along. This is just hypothetical.”

  “Yeah, right…” She could almost see the bastard rolling his eyes.

  “Westley, seriously… come on.”

  “Fine. I could have sworn you asked me this same question a few months ago when I was over there.”

  “I did, but this time, it’s a little different.”

  “Well, it depends on what it was that happened and how long I’d been seeing the person, and if we were serious or not. I mean, shit, not everything that has happened to me needs to be discussed, even if I’m with a lady for years. Some stuff you just need to take to the grave. Like that time I put my dick in the vacuum hose when I was eleven and had to go to the hospital.”

  Promise burst out laughing, almost making her coffee splash right out the mug. She set the cup down as her face burned with jollity.

  “Oh my God, I forgot about that story! Mama hasn’t told it in a long time, and I was too young I guess to remember.”

  “Yeah, that’s one of many examples that doesn’t need to be shared with the masses. So, it just really depends. There’s one deciding factor for things like this. At least with me.”

  “And what’s that?”

  “Impact.”

  “Impact?”

  “Yup. I would say something if it was somethin’ that might affect the lady I’m dating in some way. Like, if I had my license suspended so many times that I can’t drive, or had an incurable STD, or a child in another state. To me, that might be personal, but those are things that could affect her, so she should know. Me not being able to drive at all would impact how we went out. If I had a disease, that would impact her too for obvious reasons. If I had a kid, same thing. Some shit you just don’t hide. You have to keep it 100.”

  She took a deep breath and tightened her robe around her, then closed her eyes.

  “Westley, let me call you back tomorrow.”

  “All right. You okay? That was kind of abrupt.”

  “Yeah, just need to take care of something before I forget, plus I don’t want to hold you any longer since you said you had to go.”

  “Okay, that’s cool. Yo, Promise. Light a candle for me.” She forced a smile into the phone.

  “I will. Love you.”

  “Love you, too.”

  She disconnected the call, set the phone down on the coffee table, and tried to get herself together. Yeah, I’ll light that candle tonight for him. One for me, too. I’ve messed up. Big time. I need all the help I can get.

  Getting to her feet, she grabbed a lighter and headed to the kitchen to light a coconut lime scented candle.

  Westley was well aware of her love of candles, and she’d often burn one when he was on the beat in their very own Gotham City. She worried about her brother, even though he was brave, agile, and fully capable of handling the job. It was other people she didn’t trust. New York City was truly the city that never slept, and this meant that though Westley had plenty of hilarious stories to share of him and his partner dealing with peculiar people from all walks of life, he’d had a brush with danger far too many times for her comfort. A gun shootout, an escaped violent convict from the criminally insane ward, a woman who’d tried to stab him with her heroin needle during apprehension… Life is too short. She headed back to her couch, picked up her phone, and dialed her sweetheart.

  “Hey, this is who it is. Leave a message and I’ll get back to you as soon as I can. Keep it Gutter.”

  “Hey, Gutter… this is… That’s silly.” She swallowed.
“Of course, you know who it is already. I had to stop myself from giving my name. Um,” she looked at the time, “I hope you get this message soon, because I really need to talk to you. It’s important. Call me when you have a few minutes. Thanks. Love you. Bye.”

  She placed the phone down on her table and stared at it. It was eerily quiet in her apartment. No outside noise filtered in of people living their lives. The ghosts of the past nipped at her heels. In fact, they’d been harassing her all week, filling her with unease and a mountain of shame. She could barely sleep anymore as her secret ate away at her like a starving rat gnawing on pungent cheese. Tears welled in her eyes, but she quickly blinked them away.

  No need feeling sorry for myself. I have to tell him, no matter how much I don’t want to. I’m in love with this man—helplessly in love from the depths of my soul to the top of my crown and back. I love him frontwards, sideways, and backwards. I talk to his mother on the phone frequently, for God’s sake. Gutter and I go out all the time. We ignore the people taking photos, and just focus on each other. He treats me like a queen. Great conversation. Great times together. Great sex. Great romance. Great love. He’s far more spiritual than I could ever imagine, and he cares about people. Behind that tough exterior is a man who feels deeply. He deserves better than this. He deserves the truth. I don’t know if he’ll leave me after this, but I love him enough to allow him to make that choice. I waited too long, but late is better than never. Tonight is the night. It’s the right thing to do…

  “She poured that cut-rate shit into the Tropicana orange juice container, man! She’d been doing it for weeks, and we didn’t even know. Tried to pass it off as the good stuff. Cheap ass. Tasted like orange flavored water. A drop of Tang, mothafucka!” Everyone burst out laughing in the studio as Terry, the producer, cracked jokes from behind the controls. After everyone settled down, the guy motioned to him. “All right, Gutter. Let’s go, my dog.”

  Gutter glanced at his phone, ensuring it was turned off before he entered the booth. He’d shut it down half an hour earlier, knowing if he heard it buzz or vibrate, he may be tempted to check it out. He couldn’t afford to be disturbed while laying down the important track for his upcoming album. Placing his headphones on, he rocked back and forth as the music came through the speakers. Three women were standing behind him, ready and primed to assist with background vocals. He knew one of them from a previous joint; the lady had some chops. When it was his time to shine, he took flight, singing the lyrics to the song he knew would be a smash hit.

  “That’s it… over and done… Love on the run…” He sang his heart out, the hard electronic beat merging with a jazzy groove with the classic blues undertones he loved. He sang the song twice with the same vigor, then did another take for good measure before Terry insisted on everyone taking a ten-minute break.

  “Gutter, that’s good, man. When you get to the ‘love on the run’ chorus with the girls, hold that ‘run’ a little longer. I can hear it clip a little on the end.”

  “Okay. Got it.” He removed his headphones and stepped out of the booth to get his hands on something cold to drink from the break area. The place was foggy with weed smoke and the thumping sound of a vicious instrumental track from another of his upcoming songs. Grabbing a bottle of Pepsi from the refrigerator, he pulled out his phone and checked his social media posts, taking note of the likes, comments, and shares. Then, he noticed several missed calls.

  “What’s good, man!” DJ Focus approached. The short guy with a curly black beard and intense dark eyes was well known.

  “Focus!” Gutter gave the guy a dap, and they embraced in a half-hug. “I haven’t seen you in a while. Heard you on the Breakfast Club, though. I didn’t even know you were in here, man.”

  “Yeah, I’m here to lay down a little somethin’ somethin’. Terry called me in to look at a few things tonight. He wanted a second set of eyes and ears, so when he said it was you, I was like, bet.”

  “It’s good seein’ you, man.”

  “Good seeing you, too. I heard you’ve been doing big things! Like the clothing deal, and some other shit. Doin’ king shit! Your money is getting long, man. Not that I’m counting your ends, just giving credit where credit is due. You deserve it, man.”

  “Thanks,” he said, feeling pleased with himself.

  “Oh!” Focus started to snap his fingers as if trying to remember something that was right on the tip of his tongue. “Heard that new cut of you with Doja Cat, son! That shit is fire, and the other one with Eminem that’s about to be released. I got the sneak preview. That was tight. I wish I could’ve seen you two live, working on it. Two goats making gold.”

  “Thanks, Focus. I heard you’re making moves, too!”

  “Just doin’ a little somethin’.” The guy smirked, twirling a toothpick in the corner of his mouth. He then glanced at his watch. “We’re cool on time… A, before I forget, yo, there’s a party later tonight in Midtown. Old-school hip-hop celebration. You should swing through.”

  “Awww, man, that sounds great. I’m always up for a good party, especially one where I can talk to some of my idols, but I told my girlfriend I’d spend a little quality time with her tonight after I was finished here.”

  A twinkle gathered in DJ Focus’ eyes.

  “You a lucky son of a bitch, man. Everybody’s been talking!”

  That was the third or fourth time Gutter had heard similar sentiments about his relationship with Promise. At first he figured it was because of her beauty, although she wasn’t one of these video vixens, nor did she have a bunch of plastic surgery to make her look like something she naturally wasn’t. This time, the way the words rolled off Focus’ tongue, and the look on his face, made him pause.

  “Everybody’s been talking about what?”

  “About you havin’ a bad bitch, man! No disrespect!” Focus raised his hands to stress his point. “I mean, I ain’t got nothing against it ’cause a lot of us, myself included, have dated strippers and shit, but she took it to a whole new level.”

  Gutter’s mild confusion turned into piping hot perplexity.

  “What are you talking about, man?”

  “Four minutes left!” Terry called out over the speakers.

  Focus cocked his head to the side, eyes narrowed. Then, realization seemed to hit and he burst out laughing.

  “Oh, shit! You really don’t know what I’m talking about? Are you serious, son? Stop playin’.”

  “Know what?!”

  “Yo girl… the one you posted online and shit… the one people were congratulating you about. Man, she’s a fuckin’ legend. Grade A porn star.”

  Gutter stared at him long and hard, then burst out laughing. He’d never heard anything so ridiculous in his whole life.

  “No, she isn’t, man. She works for a funeral home. She actually has a—”

  “Nah, nah, nah, man.” Focus waved his hands about. “This was way back in the day, my nigga. A large number of underground movies were made in Brooklyn and some of these honeys got a lot of screen time. She went by the name, Maddison St. Claire. I can’t believe I still remember that, but I do.”

  Gutter sized up the man, trying to figure out if he was pulling his leg. Regardless, Focus seemed to really believe what he was talking about. Obviously, there’d been a misunderstanding.

  “I don’t know who the hell Maddison St. Claire is. I think she’s got a doppelgänger because my girlfriend’s name is Promise. Yeah, I’m aware they use other names, but you’d have to know her, Focus. I doubt she’d be involved in anything like that.”

  Focus now regarded him with a mixture of disbelief and pity. He just stood there. Staring at him. He then pulled his phone out and started messing around on it.

  “Time to come back!” someone yelled.

  “Give us a couple more minutes!” Gutter screamed, ensuring he was heard.

  “Damn, I can’t find any videos of her, man, but here are some images. Googled some still shots.”

  Gu
tter took his phone and looked. His heart practically stopped beating in his chest. His temperature ran hot. Then cold. Then hot again. He looked at picture after picture, still screenshots of a woman who looked very much like his Promise. The footage appeared to be of poor quality, definitely not created with the latest technology. He searched the small selection of photos, frantic for proof.

  Promise has a birthmark on her left breast… Let me see her breast! He looked for more stills and couldn’t find anything. Until one shot in particular…

  One somewhat grainy photo featured ‘Maddison St. Claire’ on her back, long legs spread wide open… and a tiny diamond mark on the left breast. He zoomed in on it, needing to be sure. Afraid to be sure.

  Suddenly, he heard a burst of laughter when people came out of a neighboring room.

  “Hey, Gutter.” One of the guys looked over his shoulder, cradling the phone. “Ahhhh, yeah! Maddison St. Claire! We were just talking about her, man. Why do you need to look at an old ass picture of her, huh? You got the real McCoy at home!” The guys slapped hands, having a good chuckle. Reveling. Gutter was woozy… then incensed. “Ms. Slob the fuckin’ Knob USA! I probably got some old DVDs of her lyin’ around somewhere. I would beat my meat, choke my chicken to her every night!”

  More laughter erupted. The guy seemed high, but all Gutter could feel was the battle raging within him. A thirst for blood surged upward.

  Ticking.

  Time.

  Bomb.

  Focus stood beside him, waving his arms around like an airline traffic controller.

  “Yo man, don’t do that. That’s his woman. You need to let it go,” he warned.

  “Do what? Focus, shut the hell up. I’m just giving him his props. A compliment! I bet she suck yo’ dick like corn on the cob, mothafucka! Y’all doin’ that Jungle Fever shit, huh? How many Black females have you fucked, Gutter? You could have the whole rainbow. Why settle? Get yourself an exotic chick instead. Far less bitchin’.”

  Gutter tilted his head, his ears now ringing.